Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

she was suddenly caught in a visual snare that no gentleman would have cast in public. He should not have been looking at her that way, as if he was remembering the way she moved beneath his hands. It was possibly the most erotic moment she had ever experienced. She dragged her gaze away from his, but the effort caused a shiver to streak through her that was more telling than any verbal admission would have been.
    David smiled to himself as he noted the hot flush on her cheekbones. It was gratifying to know that she hadn't been able to banish the memory of last night's kisses any better than he had. He hadn't been able to sleep all night and her indifferent attitude that morning had him searching for a bit of reassurance. Now he was certain her imminent departure would not prevent him from establishing the bond he wanted. He would just pick up where they left off once he was back in the capital.
    Then he would keep after her until he knew every last secret she had.
    Around midday, a steady downpour forced them to give up. The heated glance they had exchanged in the helicopter seemed to have sparked a chain reaction of looks and accidental touches that made it difficult for them to keep their minds on their work. The necessity of their bodies' positioning on the Vespa now seemed more intimate than it had before, but the rain required David to give his full attention to the road ahead of him.
    By the time they returned to the motorhome, they were drenched to the skin and chilled, despite the warm temperature. David hustled Holly inside the camper and straight into the small shower stall.
    "Why are we squished inside the bathroom?" Holly asked, laughing as he closed the plastic accordion door on them.
    "Saving the carpet—and getting us warm." He shifted so that he could turn on the shower behind him.
    "David! My shoes—"
    "—are already soaked. Now get undressed while there's still some hot water."
    "I am not taking my clothes off with you in here. In fact, there isn't enough room for two people to breathe let alone perform the contortions it would take to undress." He proved her wrong by kicking off his shoes, then pulling his shirt over his head. The shirt landed on top of the shoes with a wet plop as his fingers undid the button on his slacks.
    Her eyes widened as she realized he was quite serious, but she was determined not to give him the pleasure of seeing her run from him.
    "What's the matter, lady, haven't you ever seen a male striptease before?"
    She couldn't make herself return his easy laughter any more than she could tell him the truth—that she had never watched a man undress, that in her few previous encounters, she had been in the dark or had averted her eyes.
    He was lean, and solid, with a smattering of wet brown hair on his chest that arrowed down into his pants. She continued to stare as he tugged the clinging material down his hips and maneuvered in the narrow space to shed the remainder of his clothing. Looking at his body made her want to know if it felt as firm as it appeared. Only when he straightened, allowing her to see the full effect her staring had on him, did she manage to turn away.
    A heartbeat later he spun her back around and used his body to pin her against the fiberglass wall. "Too late for games. I came in here with a practical purpose in mind, but the way you were looking at me wasn't at all practical." His lips brushed over hers.
    She frowned, finding it impossible to think with his naked body pressed against hers. Her hands came up to push him away, but contact with the slick muscled flesh of his shoulders made her fingers crave for more.
    "Show and tell time, Holly. I went first. Now it's your turn. Tell me you want me."
    She moved her head from side to side. "I don't."
    His hand slipped between their bodies and captured her breast. "Liar," he whispered, giving her taut nipple a squeeze. "If you won't tell me, I guess you'll have to show me." His mouth took possession of hers before she could deny him again.
    Instead of the seductive tenderness he had lured her with before, his new weapon was raw hunger. It drew her into him, making her taste his need, demanding she appease it. And, god help her, she wanted to, for the same hunger was searing her insides.
    In a frenzy of arms and legs, pulling and tugging in the cramped quarters, her clothes joined his on the shower floor. Desperate gnawing kisses and groping hands made words unnecessary. Yet, with her arms and legs wrapped